Page 51 of The Trailer Park Twink

I wish the three of them would just shut up and fuck already.

Daddy lifts me into his arms and places me on his hip.

His lips part as they approach, and when we touch, it feels like an explosion in the middle of my chest. He’s kissing me like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and I just sit here taking it, matching his tongue’s movement like they’re two practiced dancers.

Like it’s what we’ve been preparing for all our lives.

Maybe we have. I don’t know if fated mates are a real thing, but if they are, I know for a fact Dallas is mine.

He touches my cheek, soft and sweet, removing his tongue from my mouth until our mouths are barely connected.

“I love you, Austin,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

“If you’ve changed your mind about the living arrangements, I’ll tell them all the get fucked.

I mean, I hope I won’t have to, especially with all the construction they did while we were gone, but if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.

” His thumb brushes back and forth against my cheek.

“I’ll do anything for you. All you ever have to do is ask. ”

I give him a crooked grin and shake my head, because I don’t like the idea of losing my friend, and I know he’d never stay if Bubba left.

Clint and Bubba left Texas two days before we did, saying they wanted to get the massive renovation underway before we got there.

They called it a wedding gift, even though we never got married.

A gentleman never turns up his nose at an offer of free manual labor, though.

Is it a little strange that two men were able to construct a DIY two-story home in two days?

Probably, but they’re both blue-collar daddies.

Give them a case of beer and a pack of smokes, and they can move mountains.

I’m a little nervous about being the odd-gay-out, if I’m being honest. Aside from Ezzy, everyone that’s going to live here has always had a preference for women.

Yes, they’re all probably some shade of queer, but it’s not the same shade as me, and I’m scared I won’t fit in.

I don’t care that they’re bisexual, obviously, I just don’t know how to connect with them on that level.

What happens if they choose to discuss the art of cunnilingus?

I know how to eat a man’s ass like an all-you-can-eat buffet, but if they start discussing their methods of bringing a woman to orgasm via clitoral stimulation, I’m going to have to sit there with my head hung down in shame the same way I had to, back when I was still in school and the boys in gym would talk about their alleged weekend conquests.

Initially, it wasn’t so scary, because I thought I could even the playing field by bringing Brian, Jamie, and Deirdre along.

They’re all strictly dickly, just like me, so at least there would be a few people who know the path I’ve walked, because they’ve walked it as well.

They refused, telling me no rational person moves clear across the country on a whim.

Sucks for them, because we did, and we’re going to make it work.

We have to make it work. It’s not that I don’t want to have to hear about their past with women, I just don’t ever want to feel like the odd man out.

I guess I won’t have to, because I’ve always got Ezra, but what if he leaves one day?

And then what if the guys all get wives, and those wives have children, and I have to be the token guncle to twenty wayward youths?

Dallas turns so we’re both facing our newly remodeled home. “She’s a beaut, ain’t she?”

“A beaut” isn’t necessarily what I’d call it, but that’s mainly because I would never in my life use the word “beaut.” What I would call it, however, is magnificent.

My God, the place is like a modern-day Stonehenge with its impossible structure.

The cabin is where it’s always been, obviously, but through the wondrous ways of Bubba and Co.

, our old trailer house has been placed on top of it like a DIY second story.

Unfortunately, the trailer is twice as long as the cabin, so cement blocks have been precisely placed beneath it, propping it up for support.

There are six columns in total, making it look like a really neat hiding spot for when Ezzy and I play midnight hide and seek.

Ahead of us, Ezra clings to one side of Bubba while Johnny takes the other, and the three of them are staring up at the bottom of the trailer.

“Whoa,” Ezzy says.

“God damn,” Johnny says.

“I did it myself,” Bubba says, blushing. “I know it ain’t exactly the eighth world wonder or anything, but does it look presentable, at least?”

“It’s breathtaking,” Ezzy says, and Johnny just smiles and nods in agreement, reaching for Bubba’s hand.

“Don’t touch him!” Ezra lifts his hand into the air and delivers a brutal karate chop, making both men cry out in pain.

“Fuck! That hurt my hand, dick. What are you, just skin and indestructible bone?” He narrows his eyes and pokes Johnny in the chest. “Stop throwing yourself at him. Do you know how pathetic it makes you look?”

Holding his aching hand, Johnny stares down at Ezra’s hand, now clinging to the tail of Bubba’s shirt, then back into Ezra’s eyes, blinking slowly. “You were saying? ”

“Die.”

“Did... did you just tell me to die?”

Ezra nods. “Yes. and I’ll say it again. Die. Die twice. Die fucking thrice, for all I care.”

Johnny’s jaw trembles. “That’s not nice, Ezra.”

Ezra’s eyes widen as he watches Johnny’s uncharacteristic reaction, then slowly nods his head. “You’re right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I’ll never tell you to die again. You have my word.”

I groan and grab Daddy’s hat and place it over my face, inhaling Daddy and exhaling emotional exhaustion. Daddy pulls me against his chest, resting my hat-masked face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You’ve got real soft hands, Ezra,” Johnny says, almost as a whisper.

“I have an exfoliation routine. I could show it to you sometime,” Ezzy says, and now he’s sounding a little breathless.

“Nope,” Dallas groans, holding me closer.

I guess he’s done with their stupid little love triangle, too, because he just shakes his head, grumbles, “Not today,” under his breath, and carries me past Bubba and the boys, into our new-slash-old home.

Everything looks the same except for one very large change that we never discussed.

Our new bedroom is gone. The one Dallas and I were going to share forever.

It’s been torn down, and a staircase has been constructed in its place, made from what looks to be freshly sawn logs.

They’re covered in this really pretty gloss that makes them shine, and there are two super-long pine trees that have been cut down and erected as handrails.

It’s fucking fabulous, but it’s not my room, and I was really stoked about sharing that room with Dallas.

As I gape at the missing bedroom, Clint rushes out of the bathroom, his hand around his bare penis, piss still dripping from the head like a goddamn caveman, and he frantically shakes his head, staring right at Daddy.

“D-Bag. Man, this isn’t my fault. I know it’s not what we talked about when we went over the blueprints back in Texas.

I’m not taking the fall for this; it’s all Bubba’s doing.

He didn’t give me a say—just took a sledgehammer and started banging your bedroom wall down.

I kept yelling that you wanted the stairway to be at the end of the hall, but he was hellbent on getting his way.

I think he did it to get back at you. You know, because your wife burned down his livelihood and salted the earth.

I’m pretty sure she cast a protective ward, too, because when I tried to cross the line of salt, it felt like my skin was on fire.

I’ve been talking to Bubba about it while we’ve been working.

We’re pretty sure she’s an undercover thaumaturgist.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I admit, pulling Daddy’s hat away from my face and placing it on his head .

“She manipulates reality, coiling Mother Nature around her little finger, reshaping the world how she sees fit. It’s a wonder she didn’t use her magic to tear down all our homes while she was at it.”

I blink at him like he’s stupid, because that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. So, I tell him, “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, there’s no need to be mean,” Clint says, kicking a pebble with his shoe.

Why the fuck are there pebbles in our lovely little cabin?

I didn’t even notice them before, but now they’re all I can see.

I spot ten of them before closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

Is this what living with het-leaning potentially queer men is going to be like?

Rocks scattered across the floor because they can’t remember to wipe their feet?

Piss on the damn rug because a grown man won’t tuck his penis away before exiting the bathroom?

Don’t even get me started on the bathroom.

I swear to God, if there are any speckles of brown stuck to the bowl, I will lose my fucking mind.

In front of me, Clint finally tucks his cock away and folds his arms over his chest, his pissy fingers digging into his biceps.

“You’ll have to excuse me, my Lord. Me and Bubba have been playing a tabletop RPG during our breaks from constructing an unconstructable two-story trailer-cabin.

Maybe we got a little carried away. Maybe we got a little bored and found something to hold our interest. You ain’t gotta be a fuckin’ dick about it, little bro. ”